Homily: Tuesday, 2nd Week in Ordinary Time - Year 2

Readings: 1 Sam 16:1-13 • Psalm 89 • : Mk 2:23-28

What a wonderful Gospel passage, where Mark clearly shows the New Testament fulfilling the Old. 

Mark tells us that Jesus and the disciples were walking through a wheat field on the Sabbath; and as they walked the disciples picked the heads of grain and ate them.

Several places in Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy apply here. In fact, the Law allows the gleaning, or picking grain from another’s field [Dt 23:25], but only with your hand. Pick just enough to satisfy your hunger. You can’t roll through someone else’s field with a combine. Then there are the Ten Commandments, requiring the observation of the Sabbath day by doing no work [Ex 20:10; Dt 5:12-15].

The Pharisees, of course, were shadowing Jesus, intent on finding fault, so they challenged Him, asking why His disciples were violating the Law. As usual, they interpreted the Law narrowly, but Jesus, as usual, turned the tables on them.

Jesus began by criticizing their ignorance of Scripture: “Have you not read what David did…?” Here He referred to the 1^st Book of Samuel. David and his companions were fleeing King Saul. Hungry, David approached the priests of the sanctuary at Nob and requested bread. But the only bread available was the Bread of the Presence, which, by Law, was reserved for priests alone [Lev 24:9]. But Abiathar, the high priest, gave the bread to David. In his anger, Saul later slaughtered the priests at Nob, not because he thought they had violated the Law, but because they had helped David.

Jesus uses this event to explain the true meaning of the Sabbath, that the letter of the Law is not more important than helping those in real need. The letter of the Law might be violated, but not the good the Law intends. Jesus summed it up:

“The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath” [Mk 2:27].

God instituted the Sabbath, Jesus reminded the Pharisees, not for its own sake, but for our benefit. For Jesus the deepest intention of the Law is not to bind us but to set us free. How did He put it? The truth will set you free. When you think about it, this isn’t surprising. Surely God wants to set you and me free: our freedom is God's gift. Did not Jesus come “to set captives free” (Lk 4:18)?

And then Our Lord said something remarkable:

“The Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath” [Lk 6:5].

Mark doesn’t reveal the Pharisees’ reaction to these words, but they must have been horrified. For them this was blasphemy. Using the Messianic title “Son of Man” was bad enough, but He also claimed the divine title, “Lord of the Sabbath.” Yes, Jesus in effect proclaimed His divinity, as He who gave the Law to Israel, the Lord of the Sabbath, with authority over the Law, over creation.

In our first reading from 1 Samuel, we encounter the young David, a shepherd, the seventh and least likely of Jesse’s sons. And yet, he is God’s choice. He will become the greatest of the kings of God’s People, and a type of Jesus Himself.

This is the David Jesus praises to the Pharisees who have conveniently forgotten the true meaning of God’s Law, the David who act points a thousand years ahead to the Lord of the Sabbath.

Perhaps, you and I should consider how we celebrate the Sabbath, the day on which we proclaim Jesus’ glorious Resurrection. Other than taking part in a vigil or Sunday Mass, what do we do to keep the day holy? Is it just another day to spend on the golf course, or in front of the TV?

Or do we take time to help those who are far from free, perhaps the lonely, the homebound neighbor with no family and few friends, someone who yearns for a visit and for words of kindness.

And like the disciples, do we also take some time to walk with Jesus, to talk with Jesus, to pray with Jesus on the day He has declared holy?

  

Homily: 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

Exodus 17:8-13; Psalm 121:1-8; 2 Timothy 3:14-4:2; Luke 18:1-8

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The other day Walmart was packed. I tend to avoid those self-checkout lines, so I picked a check-out aisle with a relatively short line and waited patiently. I soon realized my mistake. I was behind a pregnant mom with two little ones, maybe 4 and 6 years old. Standing next to mom, holding onto the cart, the two children weren’t as patient as the deacon. The older one, a boy, began to poke his sister. She started screaming, looking to her mother for justice. The line behind us grew, people were getting antsy.

It was then that brother and sister simultaneously realized two things: First, the nearby shelves in the check-out aisle held candy and small toys; and second, they had their mom in a highly vulnerable position. They went on the attack. The boy grabbed a toy and began to beg just as his sister, cleverly grabbed a bag of M&Ms off the opposite shelf.

I was impressed. It was as if they had worked it all out in advance. This battle of wills went on for maybe a half-minute, and like any parent I pulled for Mom. She was tough. She got the toy back on the shelf but then noticed her daughter had opened the M&Ms and was eating them. Instantly, all was lost. Mom had to buy the candy, and to keep the peace, retrieved the toy and tossed it on the counter as she pulled out her credit card. The kids looked pleased. Mom simply looked relieved.

Now you might find this hard to believe, but as I watched the three of them head for the exit, I found myself thinking about today’s Gospel reading. Do you see what Bible Study does? It leads us to find echoes of Scripture in our everyday lives.

Like the widow in the parable, the children knew their persistence would eventually pay off. And like the judge, the young mom just wanted some peace and to avoid what could turn into a public embarrassment. 

In Jesus’ parable, the corrupt judge had absolute authority to settle cases before him however he chose. The young mom at Walmart had both parental authority and the credit card. And the widow and the children? They seemed to be virtually powerless, and yet actually possessed real power. But any power we possess exists only to the extent that it is recognized, accepted, and exercised.

Years ago, I used to teach a course on negotiation for corporate clients. One small element addressed something I called “the power of no power.” Centuries of martyrs have shown this to the world’s powerful. They willingly suffered death, driven by an unseen power, a power their enemies couldn’t comprehend.

Today’s Gospel passage is really a lesson on God’s power and how, through His love, He has given us the ability to tap into it. Jesus revealed to His disciples that the Father gives us access to His power through prayer. We are called to be persistent, just like the widow, and not lose heart.

Right before He related this parable, Jesus had described the time of tribulation, trials, persecutions, martyrdom, even a final failure of faith. Hearing this, the disciples were afraid. How could they endure such trials? How could they remain faithful to the end? Don’t be anxious, Jesus told them, don’t lose heart, for the power of the Holy Spirit will be with you. Then God will come and establish His kingdom in justice. He will right all wrongs. He will deliver men and women from sin and death.

20 centuries of Christian martyrs all the way back to St. Stephen, give testimony to the power God grants to those who believe in His love. In the face of a worldly power that ultimately took their lives, a power they rejected, these saints persisted in their faith. They didn’t lose heart.

One common trait shared by all the saints and martyrs is prayer. Through prayer we gain access to God, and to the divine power He desires to share with us. 

Prayer gives us strength; it helps us do things we could otherwise never do. Through prayer God invites us into His world, one very different from ours. How did Jesus put it as He prayed in the presence of His apostles the night before He died?

“I gave them your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world.” (Jn 17:14)

We are called to live in the world, but not be of the world. Hard stuff when the world surrounds us and calls to us constantly. Prayer, then, takes us from the world and lets us go beyond human hopes, human reasons, human fears, human desires.

Recall Jesus in the garden the night before He died. Wracked by human fears and the vision of the world’s sinfulness, He fell prostrate in prayer to the Father. Jesus turned His eyes to the Power of His shared divinity and found the strength He needed from the Father: “Thy will be done!”

The very next day, Jesus was nailed to the Cross with arms outstretched. Did anyone witnessing the crucifixion see the image of Moses, with his arms also outstretched and “the staff of God in his hand” until the battle was won?

Moses’ prayer formed a channel for God’s power. But even then, Moses couldn’t do it himself, could he? Without Aaron and Hur holding up his arms, those pesky Amalekites would have defeated Joshua and his army, changing the course of human history.

But who helped Jesus on the Cross? What did the witnesses scream at Him?

“If you are the Son of God, come down from that cross.”  (Mt 27:40)

But Jesus would not, not until the battle was won, until He had conquered sin and death, until He had made death merely a thing of this world, a thing of time, but one that led to eternal life.

And we shouldn’t overlook that Moses needed Aaron and Hur, just as we need each other. God calls us to communion, Communion with Him in His Eucharistic Presence, and communion with each other on our journey to eternal life. Yes, we need each other. As I like to tell married couples, your primary task is to help the other get to heaven. 

Although, as Christians, we continue to wage spiritual warfare against the powers of this world, Jesus has already won the decisive battle for us…and the outcome is assured. But prayer gives us more than the strength to fight these daily battles. It gives us the insight necessary to accept God’s will in our lives.

Prayer also connects us to the power of God’s love. Prayer, driven by the Holy Spirit, focuses our attention on the needs of others instead of our own. 

And without prayer, our faith will wither and die. Mother Teresa put it beautifully, “Prayer is the oil that keeps the lamp of faith burning brightly.”

How brightly does our faith burn? Did not Jesus ask:

“But when the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?”

Will we have lost heart because we’ve trapped ourselves in our world, and lost sight of God’s?

Sometimes we excuse ourselves by saying we haven’t the time to pray. And yet we manage to find the time to eat, to study, to work, to play. We nourish our bodies and our minds. We fill our lives with activity, but we starve our souls and deprive our lives of their fruitfulness.

St. Paul instructs us to “pray without ceasing,” because he knew our lives must be a continual prayer. Like breathing, prayer is a necessity. For only through prayer can we receive the help and strength we need to get safely through this life to our true home in heaven.

One pressing problem is that we just love to tell God what to do. We pray only for what we want, never considering what we need…and then we expect instant results. 

Sisters and brothers, we can tell God nothing He doesn’t already know. He won’t refuse what’s good for us, and grants what we ask in His time, not ours. 

But always remember, it's His will, not ours, that will bring peace and goodness. When we get our prayer right, it’s always a prayer that God’s Will be done, in our lives and in the world. Then all will fall into place. 

It doesn’t matter if we’re joyful, depressed, or angry. It doesn’t matter if we’re confused or aimless, if we’re giving thanks or need forgiveness. It doesn’t matter if we’re ashamed of how we’ve lived and sinned. When we pray, we’re in the presence of a dear friend who understands and forgives, a dear divine friend who shares in our humanity.

God, in His Love, always listens. For love calls for love in return, and prayer is an act of love. So maybe we can keep all of this before us and rouse ourselves to love our merciful God – Father, Son, and Spirit – through prayer. Don’t lose heart, brothers and sisters. Believe in His love. Believe in the power of your prayer.

Oh…and please pray for that mom in Walmart. I think she needs lots of prayers.

 

Homily: 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Readings: Amos 8:4-7; Ps 113; 1Tim 2:1-8; Lk 16:1-13

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An angel appears at the faculty meeting of a large Catholic university and tells the academic dean he’s come to reward him for years of devoted service. He tells the dean to choose one of three blessings: infinite wealth, infinite fame, or infinite wisdom. Without hesitation, the dean asks for infinite wisdom. 

“You got it!” says the angel, then disappears.

All heads turn toward the dean, who sits glowing in the aura of wisdom. Silence fills the room, but finally, one old professor leans over and whispers to him, “Say something wise.”

The dean looks out at them all and says, “I should have taken the money.”

I guess academics can occasionally be funny.

Some years ago, when I was working at a Catholic college, I was involved in a conversation about the Gospels with an English professor. An agnostic, he claimed he'd lost his faith because he found the Bible “too depressing.”

“There’s no humor in the Bible,” he said, “even the Gospels. Everything is about sin and damnation. And Jesus never laughs. I can’t worship a God who doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

Well, before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “What do you mean? He created you, didn’t he?”

Ok, it was neither charitable nor well-received, but it was one of my better one-liners. Of course, I regret it to this day…kind of.

In truth, Scripture is full of humor; just read the book of Jonah. It’s a very funny book. And we actually encounter a lot of humor in the Gospels. I’ll admit, much of it is subtle – after all the four Evangelists weren’t stand-up comics – and recognizing it demands some knowledge of the culture and the times on the part of the reader.

The parable in today’s Gospel passage from Luke is a good example. It’s really a very funny story. Jesus surely meant His listeners to laugh at this steward, a complete scoundrel – lazy and dishonest, until it all finally caught up with him.

Although his boss fired him, he first demanded a full accounting of his stewardship.

Despite his dishonesty in business, the steward was remarkably honest about his own capabilities. He didn’t deny his sinfulness, and he recognized his limitations. How did he put it? Too weak to dig ditches and too proud to beg. But over time he’d evolved into a pretty clever crook. Looking to the future, he ingratiated himself with his boss’ debtors by reducing their debts.

Jesus doesn’t applaud the dishonesty of the steward, and the steward doesn’t get his job back. No, Jesus praises him only for acting shrewdly in response to his personal crisis. The punch line of the story is where Jesus says:

“…make friends for yourselves with dishonest wealth, so that when it fails, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.”

In other words, take your assets, your gifts, your cleverness, your self-knowledge, and your drive for self-preservation and spend it on that which is lasting -- that which has true value -- that which can’t be stolen or taken away by others.

Jesus isn’t telling us to imitate the dishonesty of the steward. Not at all. No, Jesus is telling us that to navigate our way in this world successfully, we must use our wits, the gift of our intelligence. We must focus on the important, lasting, holy road to salvation, a road paved with acts of love.

It’s the same message we find in John’s Gospel where Jesus tells us to act fully in the world, but not to be of the world. Jesus is telling his disciples, and He’s telling us: Use money, tainted as it is, to win friends, and thus make sure that when it fails you, they will welcome you into eternity.

Is He referring to the fair-weather friends who are sure to appear when we throw our money around? No, do we really think they have the power to welcome us into the Kingdom of God? Not hardly.

Neither is He referring to the parable’s dishonest merchants, the kind who work on the “you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours” principle.

So, who are these friends that we should cultivate and who will welcome us into God’s Kingdom? The answer’s right there in today’s first reading from the Prophet Amos.

Amos, not one of the professional prophets, was a simple fig-farmer and shepherd in Judea when God called him to prophesy to His people in the wealthy northern kingdom of Israel.

There he focused God’s message on these wealthy folks, on those who played a hypocritical role in the ritual worship of God, while at the same time ignoring God's will and exploiting the poor.

Amos uses powerful language, accusing the exploiters of buying up the poor as if they were just another commodity to be traded.

Yes, he told them, God sees what you do and will not forget your deeds.

Amos lived almost 2,800 years ago and yet his words have lost none of their impact.

The Gospel proclaims the same message, what the Church calls the preferential option for the poor.

How fitting that the first to hear the Good News were the poor shepherds of Bethlehem.

Yes, Jesus announced the Gospel first to the lowly, not to the great and powerful, and His public ministry continued that pattern.

He consistently sought out those on society’s outskirts: the poor, the helpless, the public sinners, the lepers, the despised, the world’s rejects and outcasts.

His Church, that’s us, struggles to do the same today, continuing His ministry to the poor and outcast of the world.

And the "poor" are not simply those deprived of material goods.

The poor are those who have no defense, those who cannot help themselves, those who have only God…and God's people.

Of course, Jesus ministered as well to the rich and powerful, but more often than not, it was to correct them, to tell them to let go of their greed, their pride, their hypocrisy.

And to remind them that everything they have is a temporary gift, one that belongs to God, not to them. They are mere custodians, stewards of God’s creation.

Yes, Jesus spent most of His time with the poor and calls us to do the same.

It is among them that his continual ministry of healing is mainly carried out.

It’s through this ministry that He continues to encourage them and console them and heal them.

And so, the friends Jesus is telling us to cultivate are the poor and helpless of this world, for it is they who will welcome us into the Kingdom.

There’s a perfect echo of this in chapter 25 of the Gospel of Matthew: Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers that you do unto me.

Here Jesus specifically identifies Himself with the poorest of the poor. He makes it the clear duty of the disciple to serve his master by serving them.

Now we can serve them, by sitting down in our comfortable homes and writing checks to Catholic Charities. And that’s a good thing to do. After all they need the cash.

But how about really serving the poor, by getting up-close and personal with the least of our Lord’s sisters and brothers?

That doesn’t come natural to a lot of folks, but even if we’re a long way from being at ease with everyone, I can promise it’s well worth it, for them and for you.

The soup kitchen, the food pantry, our outreach ministries, our jail and prison ministry, our Eucharistic ministry to the sick and homebound, and so much more.

Ronald Knox, the English convert and theologian of the last century, referring to this Gospel parable, wrote:

“This parable is only meant to emphasize a single point – that we must make proper use of our worldly goods while we have still time to do it.”

And in this parish, many of us don’t have a lot of time – the time to gain the only thing that matters in the end: the kingdom of God. We are in the time of grace; we are in the time when God has mercy on us and gives unsparingly. But when the time comes, at the end of our lives, for us to appear before God, the time of grace will have ended.

Mary, our Blessed Mother, prophesied in her wonderful prayer, her Magnificat, that Jesus would lift up the lowly. And to Mary we acknowledge our sinfulness when we surrender “the hour of our death” to her care. We will then face the moment of divine justice and mercy.

But unlike the steward in the Gospel, we don’t have to wait until the last minute. We can and should begin today.

If Jesus can love those who are despised by the world, then so can we.

If Jesus can speak words of encouragement and healing to those who need it most, then so can we.

If Jesus can touch the leper and forgive the sinners He encounters, then so can we.

Homily: 3rd Sunday of Advent - Year C

Readings: Zep 3:14-18a; Phil 4:4-7; Lk 3:10-18

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Gaudete Sunday – Today, smack in the middle of Advent, in this season of prayerful repentance and preparation, we are called to be joyful. It’s a time to rejoice, for that’s what Gaudete means: this Latin imperative: “Rejoice!” Hence, the color of our vestments and the candle we light today on our Advent wreaths – the color rose is offered as an outward sign of our joy.

But why? Why this focus on rejoicing? What’s its source? We rejoice today because our salvation is at hand. It’s especially fitting in anticipation of our celebration of the birth of our Savior on Christmas Day. Two Old Testament readings today, prophecies from Zephaniah and Isaiah, then a passage from Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, and finally the words of John the Baptist in Luke’s Gospel, all reminding Israel and us of God’s promise of salvation.

We’re told to shout for joy, to sing joyfully, to cry out with gladness, to exult with all our hearts, not to be discouraged, to leave anxiety behind, to fear nothing. Sisters and brothers, if you missed that message, you just weren’t paying attention.

In our first reading, Zephaniah completes his prophecy by telling us to rejoice:

“Shout for joy, daughter Zion! Sing joyfully, Israel...

But because he’s a prophet, inspired by the Holy Spirit, he speaks not only to the people of his time, but to those in the time of fulfillment, and that includes you and me:

"The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a mighty Savior…"

Zephaniah was also called to prepare God’s people by telling them how they are to receive their Savior:

“…I will leave as a remnant in your midst a people humble and lowly, who shall take refuge in the name of the Lord.”

Is Zephaniah speaking to us? To us, who have received a mighty Savior in our midst and continue to receive Him in His Eucharistic Presence? Yes, indeed, for Zephaniah’s words are God’s Word, inspired by the Holy Spirit and given to the Church for the salvation of all.

A remnant…a people humble and lowly? It that the Church? Is that us? Are we humble and lowly? 

My! That sure goes against the grain, doesn’t it? To be lowly in today’s world is to be a loser, because anyone who’s anyone strives to be a winner. Fame and fortune beckon and the lowly will be left behind. Yes, indeed, humility’s not something we see a lot of these days. As my father used to say, only partially in jest:

“Humility’s a strange commodity. Once you know you have it, you just lost it.”

You never hear saints talking about their humility, because for them humility is simply reality, the reality of our existence. We are all children of God, none better than the other, all loved into existence by our great God, Who created everything. Now, that's humbling.

Does this remnant of humble, lowly ones rejoice in God’s gift of salvation? Do evangelists of the last days prepare the world for the Son’s return? Yes, indeed, for God so often takes the weak and powerless, and through them does wondrous things. Or He allows us to be weakened, so we so come to experience true humility.

Some years ago, driving north, Diane and I stopped by Jacksonville to see dear old friends, a retired admiral and his wife, Scott and Marnie. I’d known Scott for years, and flown with him back in our Navy days. But now he was dying of cancer, and we wanted to see him once more.

That day, as we ate lunch together, Scott’s drawn face suddenly filled with peace. He smiled and said:

“You know, Dana, I’m so looking forward to seeing our Lord, I can hardly stand it. Isn’t that weird?”

Scott died exactly one week later. And that comment, made over a salad at a Longhorn restaurant, was a gift. Speaking with us several weeks later, Marnie said, “Scott saved me from a lot of grief because he was so joyful about the life to come.” We are to welcome the Lord with joy, however and whenever He might come to us.

We hear a similar message in our Responsorial Psalm. It’s really not one of the Psalms, but a prayer of praise, joy, and thanksgiving from Isaiah. We need only pray again our response:

“Cry out with joy and gladness: for among you is the great and Holy One of Israel.”

Accepting this, we believe our Savior is among us now, and that God is calling us to prepare the world for His ultimate return. We must, then, try to understand what God desires of us. And to find out, let’s revisit today’s Gospel passage from Luke.

Many picture John the Baptist as some odd zealot, dressed in animal skins, roaming about the desert, telling everyone to repent while they still have time – in other words, kind of a scary guy. John was certainly a bit fierce, mainly because he understood the holiness of God, the effects of sin, and so preached the need for repentance. And yet, he was among the sweetest of men – a saint of indescribable humility, and perhaps the most joyful saint in Scripture.

For John had met and acknowledged Jesus before both were born. Filled with the Holy Spirit, John leaped in his mother’s womb at the sound of Mary’s greeting – an unborn infant filled with joy at his Lord’s arrival. As Luke reveals to us: Called by the Word of God, John “went throughout the whole region of the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” We too are called to experience this same joy as we prepare for our own meeting with Jesus.

Did you notice that everyone John encountered, everyone he baptized, asked the same question: “What are we to do?” How should we live our lives? And John told them all – the crowds, the tax collectors, the soldiers, everyone who asked him – that they must live their newfound faith. They must prove it through works of charity, honesty, faithfulness, and justice.

Yes, indeed, “What are we to do?”

Well, God gave us a pretty simple command: Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength; and love your neighbor as yourself.

“What are we to do?”

About 25 years ago, ministering in another parish, I was asked that same question. A couple, in their early 40s, approached me after Sunday Mass and asked if they could meet with me. I didn’t know them. I’d been a deacon for only a few years, but I agreed to meet privately the next day.

We began the meeting with a brief prayer, then the man told me they were seasonal visitors, living in their new summer home. It seems they had just sold their business, a software development company, for over 50 million. My immediate thought? Oh, a big donation’s coming. 

But no, it was the wife who spoke next and said, “We’ve both been unfaithful, but want to save our marriage.” And with that, her husband looked at me and asked, “What are we to do?”

Hearing that question – What are we to do? – threw me right back into Luke’s Gospel, and caused me to ask myself, "What am I to do now?"

I first told them to go to the sacrament reconciliation and receive God’s forgiveness and taste His mercy. And because I’m no marriage counselor, I referred them to a faithful Catholic counselor, one whom I knew would help them. Then I just said: “Love, repentance, forgiveness, and mercy.”

That they were there, together, demonstrated their love for each other. Repentance, though, means far more than being sorry for our sins. The very word – repent – means to re-think, to change our thinking, and from that to change how we act. As St. Paul reminds us, repentance demands change.

“…put on the new self, created in God’s way, in righteousness and holiness of truth.”

Forgiveness and mercy…well, they go together, for they are the most vivid manifestation of God’s love, the same love we are called to imitate. We should, of course, begin in our own families, forgiving those who love us, those whom we love, those to whom we can sometimes be most unkind indeed. 

But don’t stop there. Do what John told the crowds as they prepared to meet their Lord: Give to the poor, not just from your surplus but from your own need. Be honest, loving, caring people.

Called by God as His messenger, John prepared the world to receive Jesus Christ, the Word of God Incarnate. John awakened those he encountered, pulled them out of their complacency, led them to repentance so they would understand Jesus when He came.

And it’s no different today. To shake the world out of its indifference, to heal the hatreds, the divisions, the Church needs us all to be true witnesses to God’s love for the world. Today, because our God calls us all to rejoice in our salvation, we need people of joy – not just on one Sunday of Advent, but every day.

St. Paul, in our reading from Philippians, said it best:

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice!”

And he wrote those words from a Roman prison, as he awaited execution. Yes, “Rejoice in the Lord always.”

I’m reminded again of the words of my dying friend, Scott:

“I’m so looking forward to seeing our Lord, I can hardly stand it.”

Here, indeed, is the peace of God that surpasses all understanding. And this, sisters and brothers, is the Good News of Jesus Christ. Live it! Share it!

 

Homily: Friday, 10th Week in Ordinary Time (Year 2)

 Readings: I Kgs 19:9a,11-16; Ps 27; Mt 5:27-32

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A few days ago, as I read today’s readings, I found myself recalling many of the conversations I’ve had with atheists and agnostics over the years. In almost every one of those conversations I could detect a subtle, but very real, hope that God does exist. As one young self-declared agnostic said to me, "It would certainly make life more understandable, knowing there’s a God behind all this. As it is now, for me, life is pretty meaningless.”

Yes, without God, life becomes meaningless, just a physical, chemical accident. And yet that hint of hope has always been there. It’s really the same desire expressed in today’s psalm, a Psalm of David, sung 3,000 years ago:

I long to see your face, O Lord.

We all seek God, to see Him, to as know Him, and it’s true even for those who don’t believe in Him. As my mom use to say, “Hope can lead us to faith; otherwise, we’re just consumed by fear.”

Perhaps St. Augustine, who took a rather odd, winding path to the Catholic Church, put it best: “…our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”

Yes, we’re all on a pilgrimage, brothers and sisters, even those who aren’t fully aware of it. We can wander aimlessly, achieving little, or we can open our hearts to the Spirit and let Him lead us.

A few weeks ago, in one of our Bible Study sessions, a participant, concerned about a tragic event described in Genesis, asked me: “Why would God do that? Why would He let that happen?” Well, we discussed the event hoping to achieve some understanding of God’s purpose. But in truth, what I wanted to answer him with: “How do I know? I’m not God!”

That’s really not a bad answer. So often, we simply underestimate our all-powerful, all-knowing God, whose ways are so far above us. As the Archangel Gabriel said to our Blessed Mother: “nothing will be impossible for God” [Lk 1:37]. I suppose the question for us is do we believe that? Or are we like Peter when Jesus rebuked him:

“You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do” [Mt 16:23].

Just consider Elijah in today’s reading. Hunted by enemies who sought his death, in particular a rather evil queen Jezebel, Elijah seemed to have had enough, enough of everything, enough even of life. He actually hoped to die. But fed by angels, he obeyed God and made his way to Horeb, God’s holy mountain. There, God asked him:

“What are you doing here, Elijah?”

The prophet, zealous and faithful, told the Lord what He already knew “I alone am left, and they seek to take my life.” He was afraid and alone. So, God put on a remarkable display of His power. Then, when the noise and violence had ceased, Elijah encountered the God of Creation – as one translation put it – in a “sound of sheer silence.”

God passes by like a soft breeze and the man covers his face because God has not yet become man. Only then will we see Him in the flesh, face to face. And only then will we adore Him as well in the gift of His Eucharistic Presence. And that’s what the world needs today. With senses inundated by the noise of this world, how can people recognize Him as He passes by? How can they see His face or hear the sheer silence of His holy Word?

Elijah Hides His Face

Elijah, whose faith was beyond question, was often left in the dark by God. Yet the Spirit was always there, leading and aiding the prophet as he tried to accomplish all these missions he’s been given. God expects obedience, and in a sense says: “Just do what I say, and I’ll handle everything else.” For Elijah, God’s immediate purpose becomes clear over time. But His ultimate purpose looks ahead 1,000 years, pointing to something new and wonderful: humanity’s redemption by Jesus Christ.

How about us? Are you and I prophets? Are we courageous enough to evangelize, to be God’s messengers, to speak His Word to the world? Yes, we’re called to do just that. But like Elijah and Jesus we face a culture, a culture of death, that screams its lies at us.

In our Gospel passage Jesus gets the attention of the crowd with His vivid images of plucking out eyes and cutting off hands. He’s not encouraging bodily mutilation, but He is he’s telling them: this is serious stuff; pay attention.

Then stressing the sixth commandment, Jesus really addresses the dignity of every person, the respect people should have for each other. We cannot simply use others for personal pleasure or to satisfy appetites. For Jesus is really addressing the nature of love, which is not just an emotional feeling, or a physical attraction. As anyone who’s been married a while realizes, true love demands a continual decision.

In contrast to today’s cult of self-absorbed pleasure seeking, the Gospel sets high standards. Not only does love demand faithfulness but it also calls us to be chaste in both thoughts and actions. Interesting too is that Jesus puts men and women on a morally equal level, which later causes some dismay among His disciples.

Today we often encounter the painful breakdown of marital relationships. While each case must be treated with pastoral sensitivity, we cannot neglect the fundamental values Jesus stresses here.

I suppose it’s all encompassed in Jesus’ first words of His public ministry:

"Repent, and believe in the Gospel" [Mk 1:15].

Yes, indeed, we must change our hearts and minds, and accept the Gospel, the Good News of Jesus Christ in our lives.

Homily: 4th Sunday of Easter - Year B

Readings: Acts 4:8-12; Ps 118; 1 Jn 3:1-2; Jn 10:11-18

I’m going to tell you a story; and it’s a true story.

Back when I was flying off aircraft carriers, we pilots tended to hang out with each other when off duty. We’d talk about aviation, working on improving our skills -- you know, stayin’ alive. But we’d also talk about other stuff, especially over meals. We'd always been told that officers shouldn’t talk religion or politics in the wardroom. In truth, though, we often talked about these things; but we knew each other well and forgave our differences.

One of our squadron pilots, a friend named Bill, talked a lot about religion. I thought that was strange since at best he was agnostic. Anyway, it really bothered him that so many of us were believers, especially Christians. One evening, before one of those tiring night missions, several of us were probably on our fifth cup of coffee, when Bill started on his favorite rant.

“Just look at the universe,” he said. “It’s just too big to imagine with its billions of galaxies. Then we have earth, this tiny planet of ours, so infinitesimally insignificant, stuck in some little cosmic corner.

“Is there a God who made all this? Maybe so. I don't know. 

“But you Christians believe that this God who created everything, and maintains it all, that He decided to come down here to our nothing little planet, become one of us, tell us how to live, and then let us kill Him by nailing Him to a Cross.”

Then he said, “I’m sorry, but this is just beyond…as you would say, beyond belief.” Yes, indeed, Bill thought Christians were idiots. 

Now, I was just another pilot, but felt I had to say something in defense of our faith, so I just said, “Bill, do you love your wife?”

Well, that surprised him. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Do you love Marie?”

“Of course I do.”

“Yes, I’ve seen you together. I can tell you love her.  And you’d do anything for her, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I would.”

“Would you give your life for her?”

“Of course I would. Heck, I’d even give my life for you guys, though you don’t deserve it.”

“Yeah, we know that. You see, Bill, the God who created that great universe you described, also created you and me, and created us in His image and likeness. 

“He created us out of love and created us to love. And because of His love, you can love Marie.”

All Bill said was, “Well…maybe.” I guess I wasn't very convincing.

A few years later I received word that Bill had taken his own life. When we first heard the news one of my more fundamentalist friends said, “How sad that he’s now in hell.”

Well, that made me angry, and for a moment, I just stared at him in disbelief. Finally, I said, “You really think you’re God, don’t you? That you can decide who's saved or who or isn’t. But salvation is God’s business, not ours. All we can do is what Paul told the Philippians:

“…work out your salvation with fear and trembling” [Phil 2:12].

"Only God knows what Bill struggled with, what fears claimed him. Only God knows what was in his heart. All I know is God will look on Bill with love and mercy, for 'His mercy endures forever.'  Because that’s who our God is. And I know nothing else, nothing else for certain.”

I just walked away angry, which was stupid. I’d like to think I’d handle both situations differently today. 

Sisters and brothers, today on Good Shepherd Sunday, we celebrate God’s great love for us, and we do it despite the skepticism and disbelief of so many in the world, people like my friend Bill.

In John’s Gospel we hear Jesus clearly revealing who He is and how important we are to him.

“I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.”

Jesus doesn’t abandon us in the face of danger; no, He sacrifices Himself.

Just consider what it means for God to sacrifice His life for us. This divine sacrificial act has led some to ask: Is God of the Christians insane? Is He crazy? I suppose Bill thought that too.

But our Gid isn't crazy; no, our God is Love. His is a love, not simply beyond our capability, but it’s beyond our understanding. In St. Paul’s words, “He emptied himself” and became one of us to offer His life to save ours. And He did this solely out of love. Do you see the kind of God we have, this Good Shepherd who cares so much for us?

Then, to ensure we get the point, Jesus turns to us and tells us to love others as he has loved us, to be willing to give our lives for them, even for those the world says just aren’t worth it. Our love for God, Jesus tells us, must be mirrored in our love for others.

Remember that wonderful scene described in John’s Gospel when, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, the risen Jesus asks Peter three times:

“Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

…and each time Peter responds,

“Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

To the first yes, Jesus said “Feed my lambs”; to the second, “Tend my sheep”; and to the third, “Feed my sheep.” Your love for me, Jesus is telling Peter, will be evidenced by how well you tend my sheep, my people, those for whom I sacrificed my life to save.

But Jesus didn’t stop with Peter. He turns to all of us, all of us in the Body of Christ. He doesn’t say, “love me as I have loved you.” No, instead He commands, "love one another as I have loved you." 

In our first reading, we learned that our love for others must manifest God’s love, and the good that we do must be done in Jesus’ name. As Peter proclaimed:

“There is no salvation through anyone else, nor is there any other name under heaven given to the human race by which we are to be saved."

It’s all Jesus Christ, in Jesus Christ, through Jesus Christ, and only Jesus Christ.

John presents this a bit differently in our 2^nd reading:

“See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are.”

Children of God… you and me… all of us:

• the poor in need of a meal or a place to sleep...they're God's children
• the Alzheimer’s patient in memory care...is a child of God
• the lonely, the depressed, whom nobody visits...a child of God
• the neighbor undergoing radiation and chemo-therapy...she's a child of God
• the prisoner locked away in his cell...yes, he too is a child of God
• the single mother struggling to make ends meet...a child of God

And, yes, many of us may be suffering as well, but that doesn’t mean we stop loving. 

For all of us, children of God, are brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ. We’re not strangers; for children of the same loving Father can’t be strangers. Brothers and sisters of our Lord, Jesus Christ, can’t be strangers.

Jesus calls us not simply to love others, but to see and hear Him in them, to realize that what we do for and to each other, we do to Him.

“I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’

I suppose at judgment we will judge ourselves by our response to this calling as children of God.

Years ago, Diane and I attended a papal audience in Rome, and heard Pope Benedict say:

“As a community, the Church must practice love…The Church cannot neglect the service of love any more than she can neglect the Sacraments and the Word.”

At every level, then — the universal Church, the diocese, the parish, the home – we must love. This is how the Church shows who she really is.

Outside a Catholic church in Syracuse, NY there’s a statue of a man seated on the sidewalk. I think there's a similar statue at Ave Maria University here in Florida. It’s a statue, a sculpture, of a beggar, wearing a hood, his face covered. His hand is stretched out toward those who walk by, much like the hand of the beggar reaching out to Peter in our reading from Acts. 

But if you look closely, you’ll notice a nail hole in that hand. Yes, it’s Our Lord, the risen Jesus bearing the wounds of His love; it’s the Jesus who humbled Himself to became like a slave, a beggar.

For those who pass by it’s a constant reminder to look beyond appearances and see Jesus in all who reach out to them.

And for you and me it’s a reminder that Christ has His hand stretched out to us right now.

God love you.

And please…pray for my friend, Bill, and for all those veterans who found their lives to hard to live.

Homily: Tuesday within the Octave of Easter

Readings: Acts 2:36-41; Ps 33; Jn 20:11-18

_______________________

Our Gospel passage from John is among my favorites, but today it has risen to a new level of importance for me. Let's just revisit it.

Overwhelmed by grief, Mary Magdalene made her way to the tomb. And we understand it, for she had lost her Jesus, He who had saved her. In a very real sense, Jesus, who had expelled her demons, had brought her back to life, raising her to new life. But now He was dead.

She couldn’t deny it. She had seen Him breathe His last. She’d followed as they carried His lifeless body to the tomb. Yes, indeed, her Jesus was dead. She had come there that morning to anoint His body, something she couldn’t do on the Passover Sabbath. But now in the early morning of the third day, she found the tomb empty. Adding to her grief, then, was confusion. Who could have taken Him? It was all too much for her, and she wept, seeing but not yet understanding.

Don’t you just love Mary Magdalene? It’s hard not to. She’s just so very human. She proves that as God leads us to holiness, He doesn’t let holiness overwhelm our humanity. How easy it is for Mary, and for you and me, to miss the Lord when our focus is elsewhere. Yes, Mary is looking for a dead Jesus, not a risen, living Jesus. We witness this even in her dialog with the angels. Did she recognize the angels in the tomb as angels? I don’t think so. She knew only that neither one was Jesus. 

Sitting there in the tomb of the risen Jesus, probably with smiles on their faces, they asked her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” What a question! Who are these men? “Someone’s taken my Lord. Where have they put Him?” So, she turned around, and there was Jesus, right in front of her. But she thought He was the gardener. 

I’ve always liked that. After all, God’s relationship with humanity began in a garden, a garden He created for our first parents. Yes, our God has always been a kind of gardener, providing us with everything we need for eternal life. Mary, then, wasn’t far off, was she? For what is a gardener, but one devoted to bringing forth new life from the ground.

And yet, to mistake the risen Jesus for a gardener? He must have looked so very ordinary in His humanity, and yet so very different that she could not recognize Him. Jesus, the Gardener, repeated the angels' question, didn’t He? “Woman, why are you weeping?” and followed it with another “Whom are you looking for?” Still clueless, Mary almost accused the would-be gardener of taking Jesus.

But it took only one word from our Lord. He called her by name, and at once she recognized him. I suspect that with this very personal revelation of the Resurrection, Mary instantly understood it all, as if the pieces of a puzzle suddenly flew together, forming a perfect. clear picture. She now grasped it all -- everything He had done, every look, every Word, every gesture -- and she knew the truth: Jesus lives! And like Peter, she now knew that He is "the Christ, the Son of the Living God" [Mt 16:16]. And it is to Peter and the brothers that she would take this wondrous news. She had seen the Lord!

And that’s all well and good, but how about us? We, too, believe it, but do we really live it?

I was writing this homily on Good Friday morning because I knew I‘d have a busy weekend, with little time for homily writing. But I put it aside, half-written, to get ready for the 3 pm service. Later, as I drove to church, I went through the Lynnhaven gate and turned onto Rainey Trail. That's when I saw him.

He was young, in his 20s. He had a scraggly beard and wore perhaps the shabbiest clothes I’d ever seen in The Villages. Filthy sweatpants with big holes in them, a well-stained, torn sweatshirt, sneakers falling apart. He was a mess. And he had just fallen down on the other side of Rainey Trail - half in the street and half on the grass. 

I stopped the car, lowered the window, and asked if he were OK. He just said, “No. I hurt. Can you take me to the store up on 301?” 

So, I called him over. He got to his feet, limped across the road, and climbed into the passenger seat. He smelled about the way he looked, but it wasn’t that bad. I’ve smelled worse.

I asked him his name and he responded with all three: first, middle, and last.

I asked if wanted me to call 911 or drive him to the fire station. “They can help you there.”

"No," he said, "just take me to the store."

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes, that's all I want."

So, I drove off to the convenience store-gas station, only a mile away.

"Are you from the area," I asked.

"Yes."

"Do you have family here?"

Again, "Yes."

Not sure what to say, I just told him, "Today's Good Friday, you know." He said nothing. And so, I added, “It’s a special day. Reminds us of how much God loves us.” 

He just said, “That’s good.”

I asked if he needed a few bucks. No response. Then I realized I had no cash on me, only a debit card. So, I told him. He didn’t seem to mind.

By now we were at the convenience store. As I pulled into a parking place, I just said, “Call your family."  

"OK.” With that he got out of the car, said, “Thanks,” and limped into the store.

Minutes later, as I pulled into the church's parking lot, Mary and the Gardener forced their way into my thoughts. I don't believe in coincidence, never have. God works in our lives in the simplest and the most marvelous ways. And so, I was led to wonder: 

With whom did I just spend those few minutes? 

That's when I recalled Jesus’ words: 

“Whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.” [Mt 25:20]

And it hit me...hard. I hadn't done very much, had I?

Brothers and sisters, it's not enough just to know about Jesus,

We have to know Him, know Him personally.

We have to meet Him, to meet Him and see Him in everyone we encounter.

And then we have to love Him.